


heaven or hell or somewhere in between

by the_one_that_fell



Series: OMGCP Rare Pair Hell [7]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_one_that_fell/pseuds/the_one_that_fell
Summary: Jack and Eric have lived peacefully in the sleepy town of Samwell for five years without ever fearing for their safety. Everything changes when two hunters come to investigate a mysterious rash of serial murders.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I pulled out my old Nightwish CDs from middle school to write this. Really channeled the Twific that got me into writing in the first place. I hope this is slightly better trash than that shit was lol
> 
> TW: lots of blood talk guys, they’re vampires. Discussion of violent murders, not too graphic. Talk of death and killing (^clearly^).

“There are hunters in town,” Jack said as he burst into the kitchen, not bothering with a polite _hello_ or _how are you_ like a civilized vampire. Eric raised an eyebrow at him and continued kneading dough.

“And?” He replied. If Jack was going to be his usual doom-and-gloom self, then Eric wasn't going to bother with niceties either.

Jack huffed and approached the counter, arms crossed. “Bittle. They're here to hunt _us_.”

“Or they're here to find the monster who's been attacking innocent people,” Eric said calmly. “Neither of us has touched human blood in years, there's no way they'll connect us to those crimes.”

“Hunters will kill any vampire they meet,” Jack hissed. “Innocent or not.”

“What do you propose, then, Mr. Zimmermann?” Eric asked, throwing his hands in the air. “Run away? Leave behind these lives we’ve built for ourselves? Would you really give up Shitty that easily? Lardo? Chowder?”

“I would if it meant keeping us alive,” Jack said softly. “Bittle, please, think about this. Two hunters are setting up camp in a small town — they're _going_ to find us. It's only a matter of time. They're trained to look for the signs, and, let's be honest, you and I have grown complacent here. Staying means certain death.”

“Does the morbid attitude come with age, or were you born a Debbie Downer?” Eric asked, returning to his dough.

“Eric,” Jack said, and Eric paused, taken aback by the use of his first name. “I can't watch you die again.”

And for a moment, Eric was back in that alley in Atlanta, gasping for air, looking up into a pair of blue eyes and thinking _this is the angel who’ll take me to St. Peter’s gates._ He shook his head and forced the memory back. “S’good thing I didn't really die the first time, huh?”

Jack sighed, long and slow, and Eric knew he'd won. “The first sign of trouble, we’re leaving,” he said sharply. “I'm serious. I will kidnap you if I have to.”

“First sign of trouble,” Eric agreed. “Aye aye, captain. Now, while you're here, help me with those muffins over there.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jack and Eric were an odd pair around Samwell, but not for the most obvious reasons. Sure, they were the charming roommates who amused the townspeople with their quirks and wildly different personalities, but that wasn't even the half of it. Jack was centuries old, an ancient creature in the body of a young man. Eric had been turned only ten years prior, and still occasionally struggled with vampirism in a way that Jack didn't, youthful and rash. Neither of them drank human blood anymore, opting to buy tubs of pig and cow blood from various butchers in the area, and very occasionally hunting wildlife when desperate. Jack came from a long, practically royal line of vampires, sired by the notorious Bad Bob himself. Technically, Eric was part of that line, too, though no one knew it but him and Jack. The world was dangerous enough for vampires, Jack had insisted, and their family hadn't been happy when Jack had given up human blood. Eric was safest if they never knew who he was.

The only townspeople who knew about Jack and Eric’s vampirism were their three closest friends, Shitty, Lardo, and Chowder. It hadn't been an easy choice to tell them, but Shitty was nosy and Lardo was perceptive and Chowder had a bad habit of stumbling in on people’s secret blood supplies. In the end, Eric believed it was the right choice; when he and Jack stopped hiding from their friends, they only grew closer as a group. _This_ was their family. _This_ was why Eric couldn't just up and leave.

“I've been experimenting again,” Eric said as Jack walked into the apartment that evening. “Lemon juice and basil infused cow blood. Let me know what you think.”

One of the greatest tragedies of vampirism, in Eric’s mind, was how limited his diet became. Blood was tasty, sure, but when it was your only viable nutrient source, it got old real quick. There weren't a whole lot of guides out there for vampires, so Eric had books full of recipes he'd experimented with. He'd found he and Jack could both tolerate meat as long as it was basically raw, and that spices and other powders went _long_ way in a cup of blood. It turned out blood went really nicely with noodles and rice, but his body could no longer digest vegetables or legumes. (That had been an unpleasant night for both him and Jack. It had been decades since Jack had thrown up, and he was, frankly, a big baby about it.)

He still had yet to find a way to make a blood pie, but Eric was immortal. He had all the time in the world.

Jack took a sip and smiled. “It's good,” he said. “Summery.”

“JACKO. BITS.”

The front door of their apartment crashed open and, though it was only Shitty, Eric could practically hear Jack’s paranoia whirring away in his mind. Shitty rushed over to Jack, looking troubled for the first time since Eric had met him.

“The vampire hunters you warned me about,” Shitty said, panting as if he'd run up the stairs. “They came into Lardo’s studio today, asked a lot of uncomfortable questions.”

Jack’s face darkened. “Is Lardo okay?”

“What?” Shitty snorted and wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist. From this angle, Eric could see his pronoun bracelet — an inconspicuous little thing made of brown leather and white charm letters — was set to HE/HIM today, and made note. “Brah, they just talked to her and she's not a _vampire_. She's fine. Worried about you two but fine.”

“Shitty, would you like any pumpkin muffins?” Eric asked softly, suddenly not hungry for his own food. “I brought home leftovers from the bakery.”

“Bits, you angel, I would love nothing more.” Eric brought over the Tupperware and let Shitty manhandle both him and Jack onto their small couch. Shitty shoved half a muffin into his mouth. “So it's two dudes, call themselves Adam and Justin. Fucking huge guys, it's kind of ridiculous. They're pretending to be FBI, but their badges aren't super convincing. I mean, it might just be that I'm dating a master forger, or because I already know they're fake, but these two might not be the hardened professionals you think they are.”

Jack shook his head. “Most hunters don't generally have to pretend they're law enforcement. They could still be professionals.”

“If you say so.” Shitty finished off one muffin and reached for a second. “Anyway, Lards said they were super nice and that's...kind of why she's not here telling you this herself. She and Chowder invited _Adam and Justin_ to get drinks with them. Right now.”

“WHAT?” Jack leapt to his feet, fists clenched, eyes wild. It was moments like these where their human friends were reminded of how _inhuman_ Jack and Eric were. There was a primal sort of defensiveness in Jack's face, his fangs protruding over his lips unintentionally. “They're _alone_ with paid _killers?!”_

“Jack, calm down,” Eric said. “They don't kill _humans.”_

“They can make mistakes, Bittle. I've seen it happen.” Jack raced to the door, shoving his ugly, yellow tennis shoes on as Eric and Shitty scrambled to catch up. “I have to keep an eye on those damn hunters.”

“ _Jack,_ ” Eric hissed, completely exasperated, but it was no use. Jack was already out the door and down the hall. The man had tunnel vision when it came to people he cared about, which was endearing but frustrating in instances like this. Eric ushered Shitty out of the apartment and locked up, then all but dragged Shitty at a breakneck speed to follow in Jack’s wake. Shitty just clutched tightly at the Tupperware of muffins and let himself be pulled.

Though pickings were slim, the Haus was the best bar in Samwell. It was owned by an older couple, Jenny and Mandy, who simply adored Eric and his perpetual (eternal) babyface. Jenny had once called him the son they'd never had and Eric had almost cried then and there. It had been assumed this was where Lardo would bring two fake FBI agents; the Haus was their home turf. They had the advantage.

When they caught up to Jack, he was paused outside the bar, brow furrowed. He turned as Eric approached, eyes sad but determined.

“If something happens,” he said softly. “I need you to run, okay?” Jack reached out to cup Eric’s cheek, just for a moment. “Don't try and save me or anyone else, don't go back to the apartment, just run. Head to Providence, ask for Georgia Martin. She's an old friend and will give you a safe place to stay.”

“I'm not leaving you, Jack,” Eric said firmly. “Or our friends. And _nothing_ is going to happen.”

The look Jack cast him was fond but anxious. “I forget how young you are, sometimes.”

“Oh, shut up, you old man,” Eric muttered. “How do you want to play this?”

“We came by with Shitty for a drink, didn’t know Lardo and Chowder were here,” Jack said with a determined set to his jaw. “We need to actually drink, too, else they’ll get suspicious. No sangria.”

Eric resisted pouting; Jenny and Mandy always had a small batch of sangria prepared for regulars like Eric, and it was so easy to slip in some of his flask-blood without drawing attention. It was that concoction that originally inspired him to begin experimenting with vampiric recipes, so delicious was the fruit- and wine-infused blood. “Why?” He asked.

“It’s a common drink for us,” Jack said quietly. “Sangria, red wine, bloody marys, anything we can use as a disguise. Get gin and tonic, I know you don’t hate that.”

“Fine,” Bitty sighed. “Shitty, are you still eating those muffins?”

Shitty shrugged, mustache filled with crumbs. “I skipped breakfast, man, don’t judge.”

“Did you also skip lunch and dinner?” Jack asked drily at the same time Eric said, “I would _never_ judge you, honey.”

“Thank you, _Bits_ ,” Shitty said, looping his arm through Eric’s and pulling him into the bar. “I always knew you loved me best.”

“Mhmm, sure,” Eric said, suddenly feeling nervous as they approached Lardo’s and Chowder’s table.

As he approached, he could see that the hunters were freakishly large, as Shitty had said, and dressed in similar, wrinkled suits. Eric could see the chain of what was probably a crucifix or a star of David hanging around the neck of the white guy, and flinched involuntarily. The black man — who was laughing uproariously at something Lardo had said — wore a silver band around his wrist. Even from this distance, Eric could feel its sting. Jack was right; these men were definitely hunters, and prepared ones at that.

“La-a-ards,” Shitty called, waving at their table, hand still holding half a muffin. “I got Bitty treats! For _free_.”

“Shut the fuck up and bring those over here, you tool!” Lardo shouted back. Chowder lit up when he saw Eric and Jack, and waved them over excitedly.

“Guys, Bitty and Jack are the _coolest_ , you’re gonna love them,” Eric heard him say to the hunters as they approached. “Like, when Bits is nearby, pies just _appear_. It’s amazing.”

“Oh, hush, stop braggin’ on me,” Eric said, pulling Chowder into a quick side hug before offering his hand to the two strangers. “Eric Bittle, at your service.”

“Adam Birkholtz,” the blonde one said, face impassive as he shook Eric’s hand. “And my partner, Justin Oluransi.”

When he shook Justin’s hand, Eric was met with a sunny, friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you,” Justin said. “You’re friends with Larissa and Chris?”

“Yessir,” Eric said. “I see they’ve already sucked you into their bubble, huh? These three have the tendency to do that. Basically adopted me and Jack when we moved here.”

Justin laughed. “Yeah, they seem the type. They people here are _really_ friendly.”

Adam snorted into his beer. “You’re being polite. The two old biddies who run this place basically stripped him naked with their eyes when we first walked in.”

Eric frowned. “Now, I know they’re a bit forward, but I will not hear anybody speaking so rudely about Jenny and Mandy, y’hear? Even some fancy FBI agent such as yourself.”

Adam grimaced, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry, man.”

“I didn’t mind,” Justin said softly, just to Eric. “They were really sweet and gave us free drinks for ‘doing important work for the community.’” He made air-quotes with his fingers, but it wasn’t sarcastic or condescending.

Jack came back from the bar with a gin and tonic and whiskey neat for the two of them and introduced himself to the hunters as coolly as if they really were just two FBI agents here to investigate a rash of strange murders. Adam stared at them a little too long for Eric’s comfort, but Justin was amiable and engaging.

“So, Eric, Jack, what do you do?” Justin asked, and _gosh_ , he had the prettiest smile. There was something so open and human about Justin that made Eric’s heart ache for his old life, his old self.

“We run a bakery, just down the street,” Eric said, looking down into his drink almost bashfully. “It’s called Easy as Pie. Jack’s the manager, I’m head baker.”

“That’s cool,” Justin said, taking a swig of his beer. “What’s your favorite thing to bake?”

This threw Eric; people usually asked him what his specialty was or if they could get a friends and family discount. No one ever asked what he enjoyed making. “Oh, um. Well, pie is my specialty, as you might’ve guessed from the name. But my favorite thing to make...it’s probably apple pie, especially this time of year.”

Justin grinned at him. “I’ll have to try a slice before I leave.”

“Absolutely,” Eric said, all too aware of how _giggly_ he sounded. He could feel Jack’s hand tighten against his back in warning. “Oh, and I love seasonal recipes. Right now, for Halloween, I’ve got these cute little cake pops all decorated like ghosts and bats and vam- and monsters.  And pumpkin spice cookies, those sell like _hot cakes_. Actually, they sell much better than hot cakes.”

Justin gasped, hand over his heart. “I love PSLs! I think I need, like, twelve of those cookies, stat.”

The universe was a cruel, cruel mistress for throwing such a perfect man into Eric’s life and making him a _vampire hunter_ . He was probably straight, too, but that was least of Eric’s worries in this situation. “You _have_ to try the PSLs from Annie’s, then,” Eric said, ignoring Jack’s hard look. “They’ll change your life.”

Justin laughed, deep and clear and cool as a river. “I look forward to it,” he said, glancing up at Eric from under long, dark eyelashes and _nope-_ Eric needed a cold shower and possibly a good smack to the head. Jack would probably gladly deliver the latter if Eric asked.

“Excuse me,” Eric said suddenly, standing up. “I need to use the little boy’s room.”

“It’s never not creepy when you phrase it like that, Bits,” Lardo chirped.

“Leave me _alone_ , Larissa,” Eric shot back, laughing a little. “Lord, just trying to pee in peace.”

Eric made it to the bathroom with minimal chirping, and as soon as the door was closed he let out a long, frustrated sigh. Justin was so _nice_ and seemed interested in Eric’s life and even he turned out straight he’d still be the kind of friend Eric desperately wanted and of _course_ he was a gosh darn _hunter_. The universe was punishing him for lying to his mama that one time when he was thirteen-

“Get yourself together, Bittle,” Eric said, turning on the cold tap and splashing water at his face. “Do not get yourself staked because the guy is cute. Do not be that person.”

With another sigh, he turned off the water and dried off his face, refusing to look in the mirror and see that perpetual 18-year-old who’d haunted him these last ten years. If only he’d been older, that night in Atlanta. But if he’d been older, then Jack might never have found him, and then he’d just be dead. Better baby-faced than dead, that was for certain.

When Eric returned from the bathroom, Jack surprised him by wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in close. Jack was a tactile person, sure, but he generally gave Eric space. Now, though, he leaned in, lips brushing Eric’s ear; it probably looked like he was kissing Eric, though Eric couldn’t fathom how that would help them.

“He slipped holy water into your glass,” Jack murmured. “Justin. It's a test. You have to drink. It’s going to hurt.”

To be vampiric was to be partially demonic, it was often said. Eric didn’t know the science of it — if there was any to be found — but the power held in certain religious items burned vampires like hell. Holy water wasn’t generally lethal, except in large, potent batches, and vampires healed quickly, but drinking it would be like drinking acid, even diluted. Eric’s crush on Justin was rapidly fading with this new information.

“Damn,” he whispered. “Alright. You drink some, too, get ‘em off our trail.”

Jack nodded and pulled away. “So, Adam, Justin, I hear you two are here to investigate those recent murders.”

 _Subtle_ , Eric wanted to chirp. Bracing his feet under the table, he took a small sip of his drink. Jack took his hand and let him squeeze, hard.

The mouthful of gin and tonic felt like fire on Eric’s tongue. He swallowed quickly and tried not to wince as it burned down his throat. Suddenly Eric was grateful to his Uncle Bubba and Aunt Mary Dawn for sneaking him cups of moonshine at family gatherings; he’d learned to smile through the pain from an early age because of them.

Adam nodded, frowning seriously. “A good friend of ours was one of the victims,” he said, voice slurred, and Eric wondered how much he’d already had to drink. “We’re gonna bring down the bastards who killed him.”

“You think it's more than one person?” Eric asked. “The news has been making it out to be a lone serial killer.”

Adam shook his head. “There's a nest here, I'm sure of it.”

Under the table, Jack gripped Eric’s leg tightly. Eric laid his hand on top of Jack’s, holding on just as hard. If Adam was looking for a _nest_ …

“A nest of killers,” Justin said quickly, shooting a look at his partner. “As in, living together. Probably family members or roommates.”

“Right,” Eric said, as if that were really a thing people said. “That makes sense.”

“Enough shop talk, though,” Justin said, very unsubtly pulling Adam’s beer away from him. “Those murders are gruesome, and certain aspects of them are _classified_ and shouldn’t be discussed with _civilians_.”

Adam waved a hand at Justin dismissively. “Sure, sure.

Eric handed his glass to Jack, who took an unnecessarily large gulp. He squeezed Eric’s leg painfully hard, but his face gave away no pain. Eric realized, belatedly, that Jack was maintaining eye contact with Adam, challenging him to cry wolf. Adam looked away, apparently convinced by Jack’s display. Eric wanted to smack both of them.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Justin asked, smiling warmly at Eric.

“Oh, we’re not-”

“Five years,” Jack said sharply. “About. Our anniversary is coming up soon.”

Eric bit back a sigh and nodded. Justin grinned wider at them. “That's sweet,” he said, then excused himself to the bathroom. As soon as he was turned around, Eric glared at Jack.

“Being boyfriends is less conspicuous than being roommates in a small place like this,” Jack said. “It...humanizes us.”

“If you say so,” Eric huffed. “When's our anniversary?”

“Halloween,” Jack said, eyes growing soft. “The anniversary of when I sired you.”

“When you _saved_ me,” Eric insisted, not for the first time. “I thought maybe you'd go with the anniversary of coming to Samwell.”

“No, if they look too deep into it, they’d see those dates coincide and get suspicious.”

Eric sucked on the edge of his glass, concerned by how much thought Jack had already given this. “This isn’t the first time you’ve dealt with hunters.”

Jack laughed at that — a real, booming laugh. “Bittle, I’m hundreds of years old,” he whispered, still grinning. “I can’t tell you how many hunters have tried to kill me.”

“Then why are you so concerned now?” Eric asked. Lardo was giving them a curious glance as they continued their hushed conversation, but if she couldn’t hear them, the hunter on her other side surely couldn’t. “Why worry so much about these two?”

Jack’s smile fell. “Because I was alone back then. I didn’t have you. I didn’t have a home or real friends. I could just leave without any regrets and I didn’t care who got caught in the crossfires. I have people I care about now, and these bumbling idiots threaten that.”

And this was the reason Eric stayed with Jack, despite his sire’s moods and tendency towards dramatics — at the end of the day, they were family, the kind he’d chosen, forged in the fire of dire consequences and the dark underbelly of the paranormal world. He rested his head against Jack’s shoulder, hoping that Jack understood it for the quiet affection he intended.

The rest of the evening went by quickly and uneventfully. Justin was friendly and charming, Adam was surly and drunk, and no more was said of murders or nests or investigations. It was almost enjoyable, despite the lingering burning in Eric’s throat and stomach, and the knowledge that these two men wanted him dead.

Everything changed, however, when they were stumbling out onto the sidewalk, laughing and chatting happily. The night was young, the moon was full, and Eric was feeling strong and energized in the heavy darkness. He let Shitty wrap an arm around his shoulder and list into his side.

“Chris! Chris!” A voice came from down the way, hysterical and hoarse. “Have you heard?”

It was Caitlin Farmer, Chowder’s friend and possibly-probably future girlfriend, if they’d ever stop dancing around each other. Her eyes were red and face distraught. Eric’s stomach plummeted.

“There’s been another murder,” Farmer said as she reached them, mostly speaking to Chowder. “Paul Offerton, from the post office. He was just found on the banks of the pond, torn to bits and drained of blood. Like the others.”

Eric grabbed Jack’s wrist, squeezing tightly.

“Oh, no!” Chowder exclaimed. “That’s awful. He was such a nice man. And he has kids!”

“I know,” Farmer said, leaning against Chowder’s side, tears in her eyes. Chowder petted her hair, looking close to crying himself. “It’s so scary.”

Adam and Justin exchanged a look. “We have to go.”

“Of course,” Lardo said, nodding. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.”

“You all should get home,” Adam said gruffly. “We can escort anyone who needs it.”

“I think we’re good, agent bros,” Shitty said. “Me and Lards’ll walk Chowder home. Bits and Jack got each other. But thanks.”

“Are you sure?” Justin asked, his eyes trained on Eric. “This guy’s clearly dangerous-”

“I can handle myself,” Eric said, not unkindly. “But thank you for the offer. You two go do your FBI thing, the rest of us will manage.”

With that, the hunters were off and the group disbanded, too dazed by the latest murder to even hang around to gossip or regroup. Eric let Jack lead him home, mind buzzing with the news. Neither of them had been certain until the arrival of the hunters that these murders had been the work of other vampires, but now it was almost certain. There was a nest encroaching on their home turf, and they had no choice but to defend it.

“Jack,” Eric whispered. “We have to do something.”

“I know,” Jack said gravely. “We have to stop this bastard before he hurts anyone else.”

Eric chewed on his bottom lip, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. “Have you ever...killed another vampire?”

“Yes.”

And that was all the answer Eric got. He knew better than to push at this point.

They reached the apartment in silence and parted for bed without anything more than a nod. They were both lost in thought, consumed by their own anxieties. But as nervous as he now was, Eric couldn’t erase the image of Justin’s smile from his mind as he slipped off to sleep, bright and warm and human.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, and I'm still not sure how I feel about this fic, but here's chapter 2!

“What part of  _ no _ do you not understand?” 

After a very restless night, morning found Jack and Eric arguing in the back office of Easy as Pie. Out front, Tony and Conner—the bakery’s two full-time employees—rang up customers, apparently unable to hear their bosses hissing at each other in angry undertones. 

“You’re my sire, Jack, not my father,” Eric said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can’t just tell me what to do.” 

“Thought you respected your elders down south,” Jack snapped. He didn’t pull the age card often—mostly Eric brought it up first, teasing him for being an old man—but when he did, it was absolutely infuriating. 

“I respect the ones who deserve it,” Eric retorted. “I’m not a child, Jack.” 

“You’re certainly acting like one,” Jack said. 

“And you’re acting like a spoiled  _ prince _ .” 

There was a long, tense moment, and then Jack deflated. “Okay,” he said, holding up his hands. “Okay.  _ Please _ do not follow the hunters tonight.” 

“Why?” Eric demanded. “We need intel.” 

“Then  _ I _ will get it,” Jack said. “ _ You _ will stay out of harm’s way. Remember your promise?” 

“Right, right, you die, I flee,” Eric said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I made  _ no _ promise about not trying to figure out who’s murdering our neighbors.” 

“Mr. Bitty?” 

Jack and Eric looked up in tandem to find Tony poking his head into the office. He looked back and forth between them, just now seeming to realize he’d interrupted a fight. 

“What is it, Tony?” Eric asked, smiling pleasantly at the boy. This didn’t seem to instill any confidence in the cashier, and he cast one last nervous look at Jack before speaking again.

“Um, there’s a guy here for you,” he said tentatively, as if this stranger were the root of the argument he’d happened upon. “Says he wants PSL cookies, but only if he knows you made ‘em.” 

Eric was torn between giggling in delight and cowering under Jack’s glare. “Thank you, hun. Let him know I’ll be out in a hot second.” 

Tony nodded and disappeared quickly. The moment the door closed behind him, Jack rounded on Eric. 

“Absolutely not-”

“Jack, it’s not-”

“-a  _ hunter _ , for fuck’s sake-”

“-would you rather I be  _ rude _ to the man who wants us dead-”

They both paused, staring angrily at each other. Eric sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to tempt fate, Jack, nor am I trying to date a hunter. I’m not the idiot you seem to think I am.” 

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Jack said softly. “I just...worry.” 

“Obviously,” Eric chirped, allowing himself a small smile. “Jack, I promise not to get us killed by selling cookies to a stranger.”

“I know,” Jack said, huffing with laughter. “Just… be careful.”

“You, too,” Eric said. “You know I worry about you as often as you worry about me.” 

Jack smiled sadly and leaned forward to kiss the top of Eric’s head. “I know. Now go out there and sell some cookies.” 

“Stop  _ telling me what to do _ ,” Eric chirped as he left. Jack’s laughter followed him to the front room, where Justin stood awkwardly at the counter. 

“Hey,” he said, smiling as Eric approached. “I hope I’m not pulling you away from something, I just wanted to- um…”

Eric’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, ha, no, just arguing with Jack about, uh, next week’s special. Since it’s getting close to Halloween, I wanted to go all-out with some really silly recipes—‘poisoned’ candy apples, white chocolate strawberry ‘ghosts,’ ‘bloody’ cheesecake—but Jack says they’re too expensive for such speciality items.”

Justin looked properly offended on Eric’s behalf, and Eric wished he’d been there when Eric and Jack had  _ actually _ had that argument a week ago. “Those sound so cool, though!” 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” Eric said, hands on his hips. “I think the kids of the neighborhood would really like it!”

“Does the bakery get a lot of trick-or-treaters?” Justin asked, and Eric ignored the curious stares he was getting from Tony and Conner. Though they’d never been explicitly told that Jack and Eric were an item, Eric assumed most people in town were under that impression. 

“Oh, yes,” Eric said, pointing down at the tray of PSL cookies displayed prominently in the glass case. Justin nodded eagerly. “A lot of parents take the real young ones around to the shops before dark, so they can still have fun but not be out past their bedtimes with the big kids.” He paused, biting his lip, and added, “There are so many fat babies in pumpkin suits that come in every year—I  _ live _ for it, honestly.” 

Justin laughed brightly, and Eric felt an ache in his chest at how handsome his smile was, how open and happy. 

“How many d’you want?” He asked, grateful Justin was the only customer in line. 

Justin scoffed. “I was being serious when I said I needed, like, a dozen.” 

Eric rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed the cup of broken cookie pieces he used for samples. “Might wanna try ‘em first, huh?” 

Justin gave a dramatically put-upon sigh and popped the cookie chunk into his mouth. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he gave Eric a wide, cookie-stuffed grin. 

“I changed my mind,” he said, slamming a hand down on the counter. “I need  _ two dozen _ of these  _ immediately _ .”

Eric laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “And how on Earth would you manage to eat twenty four of these before they go stale?” 

“Eric,” he said, his smile too charming to be real. “You underestimate me.”

And Lord help him, Eric laughed at that like the flirt he was.  _ Now everyone’s gonna think you’re a cheater,  _ he thought glumly.  _ A flirt and a cheat, that Eric Bittle _ . 

“Well, if you insist,” he said, pulling out one of his orange (for Halloween!) bakery boxes and counting out two dozen cookies. “So, I know I’m not supposed to ask about top-secret FBI junk…”

Justin sighed heavily. “Investigation isn’t going great. Hols- Adam’s upset. He, uh, thought we would’ve caught the perps by now.”

Eric laughed nervously, neatly closing the box and tying it off with a black ribbon. “He’s that confident in y’all’s abilities?” 

“Well, we  _ are _ the best,” Justin joked. “But it’s...probably more personal than is wise.” 

The fact that Justin was telling him all this led Eric to hope that he and Jack were not suspects, especially not after all the holy water he’d had to drink the night before. “What was it you were calling him just now? Holst?” 

“Holster,” Justin said with an easy grin. “It’s a dumb nickname from our hockey days.”

“It’s cute,” Eric said, handing over the box. When Justin reached for his wallet, Eric waved him off. “On the house. I’m serious.”

“Dude,” Justin said, brow furrowed. “You can’t just give me all these cookies for free. Won’t Jack-?”

“Oh, but it’s not for free,” Eric said, chiding himself for the way he leaned closer, elbows propped on the counter. “In exchange, I wanna know  _ your _ embarrassing nickname.”

Justin laughed, throwing his head back. “Okay, okay. But only because  _ your _ friends call you Bitty.” He paused, looking around, and leaned in to whisper, “Ransom.” 

Eric grinned. “Ransom and Holster. That’s adorable.” 

Justin shrugged, straightening with a charming grin. “We try.” 

“Well, go on and be a hero,” Eric said, shooing Justin away a little reluctantly. “Don’t let me keep you from solving crimes,  _ Ransom _ .” 

Ransom winked at him and left, box tucked under his arm. Eric sighed and headed back into the kitchen, tugging at the collar of his shirt. It certainly had gotten hotter in here, hadn’t it?

“Ransom and Holster,” he murmured again as he returned to the rows of cookie dough that needed cutting—all destined to be shaped like pumpkins and bats and ghosts. He laughed and grabbed his box of cutters. It was going to be a long morning, with the image of Ransom’s smile in his mind.  “Cute.” 

 

* * *

 

“RANSOM AND HOLSTER?!”

It was only noon and Eric was already tired of Jack yelling at him. “Yes, it’s their hockey nicknames or something. What’s wrong?” 

Jack looked like he was dangerously close to punching a wall. (Or  _ through _ one, if Eric were being realistic.) “Ransom and Holster are two of the most dangerous hunters in the country,” he growled. “They nearly got Parse.” 

Eric’s eyes widened. He’d never met Kent Parson, but he’d heard of the night Jack had almost died to save Parson’s life from the clutches of hunters. That had been the night he’d given up human blood forever—with the exception of the encounter in Atlanta…

“It’s  _ them _ ?” Eric hissed, hand flying to his mouth. “You didn’t recognize them?” 

“It was dark,” Jack defended, running a hand through his hair. “And everything happened so fast.” 

“You don’t think they recognize you, do you?” 

Jack shrugged. “Holster might. He’s been watching me.” 

Eric let out a distressed huff, slumping against the wall. He’d been so sure, with the way Ransom had been acting...but now the smiles and flirtation seemed to make sense. Why else would someone like him flirt with someone like Eric? “Do we leave, then?” 

Jack shook his head. “They’ll chase us if we leave now. But I’m going to call George, just in case. Make preparations for you.” 

“Me?” Eric hated when Jack got this way, more martyr than vampire. “Jack, you’re coming with me.” 

“You know I’m not,” Jack said simply. “If they come for us, they come for  _ me _ . You’re the one who will make it out of this alive.” The  _ you’re the one who deserves to live _ was unspoken, but still hurt Eric’s heart the way it always did when Jack spoke like that.

“I’m not having this argument again,” Eric said wearily. “Are you following them tonight?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I’ve asked the others to come hang out with you while I’m gone.” 

“You mean babysit me,” Eric said sharply. “Make sure I don’t come after you.” 

Jack shrugged. “You said it, not me.” 

“I hope it’s  _ really _ boring,” Eric said petulantly. “I hope they bore you to death.” 

Jack laughed and ruffled Eric’s hair. “Thanks. Now get back to work.” 

“You’re the worst business partner ever,” Eric said as Jack left the kitchen. “I’m plotting a coup with Tony and Conner! It’ll be  _ my _ bakery soon enough!” 

But Jack was gone and Eric was left with his worry, so he did what he had to; he baked. 

 

* * *

The get-together that night was low-key and almost boring. Shitty—whose bracelet was set to THEY/THEM—napped on Eric’s couch while Lardo did work for a new client on her laptop. Chowder was sprawled across an armchair, texting Caitlin with a goofy grin.

“Anyone need anything?” Eric asked, pacing the room nervously. “Snacks? Drinks?”

“Chill, Bits,” Lardo said without looking up. “He’s fine. Sit down.” 

“It’s been hours,” Eric said, wringing his hands together. “What if-?”

Before he could finish his thought, there was a knock at the door. Eric and Lardo exchanged a look, and very cautiously Eric moved to look through the peephole. Maybe Jack lost his keys. Maybe it was one of the neighbors, asking for a cup of sugar. Maybe-

Eric threw the door open to find Ransom slumped on the floor, covered in blood and clutching his stomach. How he’d gotten to the apartment, up the stairs-

“Help,” Ransom whispered, looking up at Eric with pained, unfocused eyes. 

“Hang on, hun,” Eric breathed. “We’ll call an ambulance-”

“ _ No _ ,” Ransom choked out, reaching for Eric. “No hospitals. No police.” 

Hunters, it appeared, were as stupid as vampires. “You need a doctor.”

“Please,” Ransom said. “No doctors.” 

“Ransom,” Eric said, cupping his face with his hands. “Justin. Where’s Adam? What happened?” 

“I think…” Ransom grabbed at Eric’s arm. “I think they got him.” 

Eric turned to look at the others, all of whom now stood behind him, and the dark look in Lardo’s eyes confirmed what he’d feared. If they’d gotten Holster, chances were they’d gotten Jack, too. 

Ransom slumped in his arms and the smell of him—of his blood—was overwhelming. Eric had never longed to feed so intensely, but he shook himself out of it. “Take him inside,” he whispered, nodding to Chowder. “Patch him up as best you can. I know-” He continued as Chowder tried to protest. “You haven’t refreshed on your training, I know. But you were a paramedic for years, Chris. I believe in you.” 

“If Chow can’t do it, we’re taking him to the hospital,” Lardo said. 

“I know.” Shitty and Chowder were carefully carrying Ransom into the apartment. “I have to go find them.” 

“I know,” she said, and pulled him into a tight, quick hug. “Go get those knuckleheads back.” 

Eric nodded, casting one last glance at Ransom before turning on his heels and sprinting downstairs, out into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my writings and such, please check out my online novel, [The Discourt Knife. ](thediscourtknife.com) It can also be found on [Tumblr.](thediscourtknife.tumblr.com) My personal tumblr is [alphacrone.](http://alphacrone.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure how I feel about this fic or if I’ll continue, so lmk if you enjoy


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